Asha
by SamRae59
Summary: Who is Asha? What does she stand for? THIS IS RATED M FOR A REASON! ABANDONED because I am a crappy writer.
1. Chapter 1

Alright this is just a story that I came up with. I may or may not continue it. It is rated M. This is for a reason. Rape, torture, language, and other crap that comes from my twisted mind. It is not from any story, or show, or anything like that. Any characters that are recognizable, I did not mean to copy. Any recognizable characters belong to whoever created them. This is a twisted story and may be triggering. If you feel that anything will do this, DO NOT READ THIS STORY. If this story causes anyone to do anything, that is their fault as I included warnings. I debated whether or not I should post this, but I would like feedback on how people feel that I write. If you read this, and feel like commenting, do so. Even if it to say that I am a shitty writer and should never write again. Nothing you can say will hurt my feelings, as I asked for feedback.

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I must say. It wasn't supposed to go this far. But I sure am glad it did.

It started as a desire to get free. To get a few hours of freedom.

And you see, I _had_ gotten free, but the whole situation devolved into something more dangerous than I of had thought it would. I just wanted to be free of my husband.

My so called, _husband_ , yeah, he could go die in a hole for all I care.

Oh. Wait. He did. I made _damn_ sure of that.

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"My husband and I had been married for only two months before he started to show his true colors. I mean I guess I should have guessed what he was truly like.

He made an effort. At first. Just long enough to get me pregnant. He didn't know though.

Then he started working strange hours, and when he was home, he drank. A lot.

It began with a few beers a week. Then a few beers a night. Then spending hundreds per week for the good stuff. The vodka. It made him quite volatile.

Any little thing I did set him off. His food wasn't hot enough, it was too hot. The house wasn't clean enough. I wore a certain color that he didn't like. I was too loud.

At first he would scream or hit the wall. Then he started screaming and hitting me.

The first time, he slapped me across the face. After he hit me, he froze and just kind of stared at the hand that had hit me. Then it was almost like a light had turned on behind his eyes. When I saw that I started to turn and run. I wasn't fast enough.

He punched me so hard in the face it knocked me out. When I woke up I was still on the floor and he was standing over me. After that he started treating me like a slave. Beating me when he felt like it, torturing me, raping me, making me do all of the dangerous household tasks he could think of. I was afraid for my life and my child's. I was able to avoid his hits to the stomach.

Thankfully he was the head doctor at a hospital and had to work a lot. Since he could set his own hours, he decided he would only work nights. Eight at night to eight in the morning every night except Monday and Tuesdays.

I hate Mondays and Tuesdays now with a burning passion.

The best part about his job was that he couldn't miss a day. He had to be on time, and he couldn't leave early. Those were the nights I was free. After I did everything he left for me to do of course.

You might ask why I didn't just run away or call the cops. Well he disconnected the house phones and broke my cell phone. He also decided to board up the house and put heavy duty security locks on the doors. I didn't have the strength to take down or break the boards, and the locks were outside.

I couldn't leave during the day because he had convinced all of the neighbors that I was mentally unstable and couldn't go outside. They believed _the_ _doctor_. Even my previous employers believed that I was unstable. He told them and they believed him. Especially when I stopped showing up.

I was afraid. For my life. For my child's life. To run. Of him.

Then one day, he got so drunk that he missed me when he went to punch me. He hit the board that covered one of the windows. The punch was so strong it knocked the board loose. He didn't even notice; he was that drunk. He hit me a few times then stumbled away to sleep off the alcohol. By that point I was on the floor, so I stood up (carefully because I think that he broke a few ribs that time) and fixed the board so that he _wouldn't_ notice. Then I went to go clean the already clean house.

It took me two weeks to work up the courage to even look outside through the board. Then another week to actually go out. That, I would have to say, was probably the most terrifying day of my life at the time. I was terrified someone would see me, or that he would find out somehow. I was sure that he would kill me if he caught me.

I knew better than to stay around the neighborhood. Any of the idiots would call him in a _heartbeat_ if they saw me. So I stayed hidden and got out of the neighborhood as soon as I could.

But I didn't run. I wouldn't have been able to keep myself alive if I did. I should have run. I should have known he would know. _I should have._ "

Here I stop my story and began to sob. All I can think is that I should have left when I had the chance.

Kayla grabs me by the shoulders and whispers to me frantically, "Hey! HEY! You need to look at me and you need to be quiet. I hear them coming!"

I quickly shut up and wipe my face. I know better than to let them see me cry. They don't like when we cry and it makes the 'punishments' worse. There are four guards this time rather than the usual two so I know that someone is going to be taken. I hold little hope that it's not me. They always take me and one of the other girls for the punishment sessions. And I'm right. They grab me and one of the new girls who doesn't know how to shut up.

I feel sorry for her and a few of the others. They won't survive long here. I've been here so long that I have an instinct as to who the survivors are. I've been here the longest and know how it all works. I just hope for her sake that she doesn't survive this session. It will mean less pain for her. It's not like she would be the first one to die in front of me.

The sad thing isn't that I don't know her name. It's that I don't want to. I don't ask their name until they come back at least five times. Most of them don't survive that long so there is no point. And no one knows my name. They do call me Asha though. Ironic really. Kayla says that it means hope. Though why they think that I represent hope in this place leaves me astonished. They say that it is because I have survived for so long. They shouldn't hope to be here for as long as I have.

They all either die or get sold. The guards are supposed to train the girls to be sold, but sometimes they get _eager_ , and the girls don't last that long. They are the lucky ones.

I was right. The new girl didn't last long. I would say she went the quickest of any I've seen. She was gone ten minutes in. Lucky bitch. So now I had the guards all to myself for the next however long they feel like. They must have been quite angry. They pulled out the brand this time. In addition to the barbed whip, rape, and the other usual _fun_ goodies.

When I am taken back to the disgusting cell I now call home, I see that Kayla is shocked at how bad I look. She hadn't seen the brand used before. One of the new girls asks where the other girl, Sharon, she calls her, is.

"Dead. She went fast. They must have been training new guards. One of them hit her wrong and got her in an artery seven minutes in. She bled out in three even though they tried to keep her alive. The guard that got her was shot though. That made my day." I laugh bitterly.

As I am talking, the girl that asked begins crying and screams at me, "Do you even care?! My sister just died and you are alive and laughing! You're a fucking monster!"

I stop laughing. The other girls and Kayla volleyball their eyes between us. All of the girls stick together for the time they are here, and now there is a rift.

I snap.

"I _know_ I'm a monster! What do you think happens when you've been here for two years and anytime they take someone for _punishment_ , they also take you? What do you think happens when you see half of the girls who come through here die in front of you, and when they die, the guards take out their anger on you for having their _fun_ taken away? What do you think happens when you have seen so much death and misery that you can't remember a time when you were happy? What do you think happens when your husband, who is supposed to _love_ you, instead beats you and sells you to this hell hole?"

I decide to finish my story from earlier. _MY_ story. Of how I got here. And why I shouldn't be a _beacon_ of hope.

"He beat me unconscious one day. I woke up tied to our bed. The ties were quite secure. I could only lift up slightly. When I lifted myself up, I realized I was naked and in a shitload of pain. Numerous bruises, a _lot_ cuts and I believe I had at least three broken bones. He had really gone to town on me. But none of that really sunk in over the large pool of blood around me. He had actually stabbed me in the stomach. Right where the baby was. I was pregnant and he killed my baby.

I must have gone into shock after seeing that because I don't remember anything after that until he slapped me in the face, bringing me to.

I think he expected me to fight or scream or cry. So when I just laid there he must have been surprised. If he was even capable of feeling anything other than sick pleasure at seeing me bleed.

He must have been extremely shocked when I calmly asked him, "Did you know? Is that why you stabbed me?"

"Know what? That you were sneaking out? That you are a dirty whore and don't deserve to live?"

"No. That I was pregnant."

"WHAT?! AND YOU DIDN'T TELL ME YOU FUCKING WHORE? WHAT THE FUCK?"

Here he just kind of went off on a rant about how useless I am, I think, but I wasn't really listening. An overwhelming grief had begun to sink in. And under that was a guilty sense of relief. At least I don't have to worry about keeping a child safe from that monster. And I don't ever have to worry about it again. Stabbing any female where he stabbed me would make them infertile. He told me himself. Well, more spat it into my face with a sick gleam of satisfaction in his eyes. Asshole.

I had been brought back out of my thoughts when I heard him say that at least he could make some money off me. I was about to ask what he meant when he said that, but I didn't have a chance.

He pulled out a syringe and injected me with whatever was in it. Whatever it was made me pass out. But not before I saw two men enter the room and saw my _husband_ greet them like friends. And then I woke up in this hell hole and have been here since. So yeah I'm a monster. But we all are. You all now know how I got to be here and that I'm a monster. I don't care anymore." With that I collapse against the wall.

They know most of my story now. They can make what they want of it. I don't care anymore.

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It's been another month since I told my story. Kayla died two weeks ago. They didn't even torture her. They just…slaughtered… her in front of me. The guards realized that I was closer to her than any of the other girls. It's my fault that she is dead. My _favorite_ guard of all time told me that.

He said that they killed her in front of me just to have an effect. They wanted me to scream and cry again. It didn't work though. Why would it? I don't feel much anymore.

Needless to say, I'm not getting close to any of the girls anymore. I'm not having any more deaths on my hands because I'm too close with a person.

I hear the girls talk about me sometimes. The older girls tell the newer girls my story. Then when the newer girls _become_ the older girls, they pass my story on. They all know of Asha. The girl who never screamed. The girl who never made a sound anymore. The girl with no hope.

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If anyone wants me to continue this story, tell me. Let me know if anyone has any ideas on how this should go. I may or may not include them. Just let me know what you think.

Also Asha is an Indian name that comes from the Sanskrit word for hope.


	2. Chapter 2

Alright, I see that there have been four views. Not too shabby. This is the next installation from the fucked up mind of a teenager. If there is any infringement, I apologize and it is not on purpose. Anything anyone recognizes doesn't belong to me. Tell me how I'm doing people! I truly want to know so that I can improve my writing. Like I said before, even criticism is appreciated and won't hurt my nonexistent feelings. Pinky promise. Alright. Enjoy!

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They're not going to kill me. I wish they would. Pain, pain, go away, come back never again.

I tried to kill myself, they didn't let me die. What the fuck man? They just stitched me up and threw me back into the cell.

They won't kill me and they won't let me fucking die. Just make it stop. Make it stop, make it stop, makeitstop, _makeitstopmakeitstopmakeit_ \- "Asha!"

I jerk upright when I hear my name hissed. I am slumped over the water trough. I think I passed out. So weak. Can't open my eyes. Can't breathe.

The damn torture has progressed from every other day to every day. And it is still me every time. Every bloody time.

The world is shaking. Why? What's going on? One of the girls is shaking me. She is saying something. What? _Open your damn eyes_!

"- up! There – an explosion! – door - gone! – GO!"

I can barely understand her. Think she said something about an explosion and that we gotta go. Can't get up though. Legs are so weak. Don't wanna move.

There is someone grabbing me under the arms. Why? More torture? Great.

Oh wait… explosion right. Escaping. Running. Oh, falling now. Ouch. My face.

Up again. Left right left right. Don't fall don't hit that wall.

Oh wow bright light. Tripping over all kind of shit on the ground. On my face again. Great. More bruises. _LOL_!

Is that sunlight? Haven't seen _that_ in forever!

Oh great, another explosion, and into the wall! Well there goes that arm.

My legs! They work now. Now left right left right. Step by step, towards that glorious light.

Oh there are people there. To go or not to go? Oh who fucking cares? Let's go!

Oh and down some stairs now. I wonder who that-

Blackness.

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When the girl falls out of the door and down the stairs, Eric is horrified. She doesn't even look like an identifiable human being. She looks like a slab of meat that was fought over by a pack of wolves.

The other girls come out a tad more gracefully than the first girl. At least they don't fall down the damn stairs.

"Ladies! I am going to need all of you to line up to get medical attention! Line up by the ambulances please!" one of the police officers calls.

"What about Asha?" a few of them call back.

 _They look like they haven't been in there long_ , Eric thinks. He calls back to them, "Just grab her and bring her over with you!" _But damn_ that _girl looks like SHIT!_

The girls line up nicely, but the paramedics decide that this… Asha… needs immediate medical attention, and whisk her off in one of the ambulances. He needs to get her statement later. She looks like she was there the longest.

Eric goes over to the ambulances to talk to some of the girls.

How long were you in there? Did you recognize anyone? Do you know who ran the place? What happened in there? Who was there the longest and for how long?

The answers to the first question varied from a few days to two months. None had been there longer.

The answers to the second were a resounding no.

Same with the third.

The fourth and fifth however caused shivers to go down his back.

Torture. And Asha. She was there for almost _three years_!

The girls said that this Asha doesn't speak anymore and that she doesn't even scream. They tell me that she has no hope. They say that she had never had an easy life, but they won't say why. He can see that they know her story, that it is almost a legend to them, but they won't tell him.

However, they do tell him that she isn't all there anymore.

"Well who can blame her? She went through hell!" Eric remarks. He is uneasy and unsure if he actually wants to know her story.

The girls refuse to tell him what happened to her in there. They say that they have no business spilling Asha's business. She was their hope, even if she had none.

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It's cold wherever I am. And bright. It stings my eyes even through my eyelids. I don't hurt. How odd. There is no pain.

Is someone talking? What is that infernal beeping? It needs to stop.

I crack my eyes carefully. It is really white here. Wherever this is. Three people are hovering over me.

One looks like a damn monkey. _Giggle_. I can't help myself. I laugh.

I stop almost immediately. That hurt. I think I'm on drugs. Lol.

Everything is blurrier than normal. Ohh monkey man grew claws. Fabulous.

Is this a new torture? If so it is total crap.

He said something. "Blink – hear me." Okay. I blink. I think.

The monkey man and co. are doing something inside me. It tickles. Are they trying to fix me? Why?

"Do – hurt -?" hmm… do I hurt? Not really. I roll my head to the side. And back. No. Not a lot anyways. Not as bad as what _they_ would do.

I sort of float off into a land of purple and blue and monkey men who say that I am the worst case he's ever seen. I just float there until there is a disturbance in the force. A man in blue and black intrudes. He looks like a giant bruise.

He starts asking the monkey man questions and looking at me.

He brought me out of my head land so I decide to scrunch up my face at him. His face goes funny at that.

It makes me laugh. Then stop. Ouch. Pain. No laughing. I pout.

That big bruise laughs at me. Ass hole.

The monkey man gets in front of the bruise and tries to push him out. He can't. The man is a BIG bruise. And monkey man is small.

Monkey man shakes his head and walks out.

The bruise come toward me. He is saying things. Asking things.

"My name is Eric. What is yours?"

I just stare at him. What is a name? I don't think I know. Maybe at one point I did. But not anymore.

He's not funny anymore. He makes me think. That's not fun.

I close my eyes and pretend he's not there.

He doesn't leave. He just sits. Jerk.

"That's fine. I already know it. Asha."

I snap my head toward him. Shock. Only the girls called me that. Is that my name? I don't know.

"We heard rumors that there was human trafficking going on through that property. But we didn't have any proof. Until two days ago. A girl escaped before anything happened to her. She came to us and told us what was going on there. It was the proof we needed to launch a strike on the property. We didn't think that there was as many girls there as there were, but luckily, no one died. The explosives were set to flush out those assholes and evidently set you lot free. You came rolling down the stairs, and the other girls followed. But they walked. You were rushed to the ER and the others got their injuries looked at later. They told me who you are, but not your story. I need your story."

Shock. Again. I'm free. Never thought that would happen. I can't speak though. Which sucks. So I just stare at him.

"Well?"

Is he stupid? Evidently.

I slowly open my mouth. When he sees it he visibly goes pale. If he pukes that will be gross.

You see after they killed Kayla, some of the other girls decided to put up a fuss. And the guards can't harm the merchandise, right? They decided to cut out my tongue as an example to the other girls. They didn't put up much of a fuss after that.

"Oh my god! That is sick and sadistic! What the fuck?" He gets up and runs out of the room holding his mouth and stomach. What a pansy ass bitch.

Oh look I'm holding something. Let's squeeze it.

A rush of cold enters me. It's going black. Monkey man is coming in. He's running. He looks scared. Why?

Blackness.

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When he sees he tongue, or lack thereof, he has an intense urge to puke. He can't help but run out of the room.

When he gets out of the bathroom, he realizes that there are all kinds of doctors and nurses running in and out of Asha's room. He flounders for a minute before he asks one of the nurses what happened.

"The poor girl. She was so confused. She squeezed the sedative release too hard. She OD'd. she is still alive but we have to pump her stomach. Now, excuse me."

He is shocked. He leaves for two minutes and she almost dies. He can tell that Asha is going to be a lot of trouble. And he still hasn't gotten her damn statement.

He decides to come back the next day to question her further. Maybe she can write her answers out.

He needs the truth.

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Again reviews are appreciated! Even if they are to say that I'm a sick fuck. Alright thanks.


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